


The Sexual Education of Kyle Valenti

by mythras_fire



Series: Friday Night Chats Plot-Bunny Factory [19]
Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: 3+1 format, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - High School, Arturo Ortecho is the adult male role model everyone deserves, BAMF Alex Manes, Bilingual Kyle Valenti, Canon-Typical Internalized Homophobia, Character Study, Dancing!, Developing Friendships, Discussions of sexuality, F/M, Graduation, Jesse Manes is His Own Warning, Kyle Valenti Appreciation, Liz Ortecho is a Good Bro, M/M, Macho Bullshit Code, Michael Guerin Loves Alex Manes, POV Kyle Valenti, Prom Re-imagined, Spaghetti Western Similes and Metaphors, communication is healthy, kissing!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:40:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21626224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mythras_fire/pseuds/mythras_fire
Summary: The jock geek had just taken another bite of his hot dog as he rounded the hood of an old beat-up Chevy truck when there came a derisive snort from the other side of the windshield. The sound had carried out through the driver’s side window, and Kyle paused as he cleared the wide sideview mirror, squinting to peer inside the darkened cab. The window was rolled all the way down, which was a little odd given it was still January in the desert. Most couples brought lots of blankets and cuddled together inside their cars to watch the movie, but this guy was just casually leaning back in his seat, left arm resting on the open sill, right arm wrapped snugly around his cozy-looking—“Alex?!” Kyle mumbled around a mouthful of food.“What’s the matter, Valenti, were they all out oftacostonight?” Alex quipped.OrThree times Kyle got schooled by his friends and family plus one time he finally got his shit together.
Relationships: Alex Manes & Kyle Valenti, Liz Ortecho/Kyle Valenti, Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Series: Friday Night Chats Plot-Bunny Factory [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1292960
Comments: 48
Kudos: 99





	1. Revolution

**Author's Note:**

> World-building for this story: In writing this high school AU, I decided to change a few details, some for plot purposes, others just to give the characters happier high school feels because after what they (and we) have been through in season one, they deserve it. Also, this fic is from Kyle’s POV, so there are some background events that need to be described in the prologue because Kyle is as yet unaware that he goes to school with extraterrestrials ;).
> 
> Dedication: To my bestie, annunziatina, who deserves all the things ♥ and who sent me the youtube video that birthed the plot bunny for this story, way back in September. This has been a labor of love, I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
> 
> Disclaimer: All characters, quotes, lyrics, videos, research, and pop culture references belong to their respective creators. Neil, Andrew, and Exy belong to the wonderful book series ‘All For the Game’ by Nora Sakavic. I will paste the links in the story where applicable to the source materials if you would like to read/watch them in their entirety. I have also had way too much fun throwing in anachronistic content to suit my needs. Oh, and in case anyone's wondering, in this 'verse, you can totally go to the Drive-in during the month of January out in the desert (the secret is to take along your portable alien space heater with you to keep you nice and snuggly warm ;) <3 ).

~ Prologue ~

Michael, Isobel, and Max are still aliens, their childhoods are canon, except that this time Isobel did not get dragged off by that drifter and Noah is a regular human male who will transfer to their high school senior year and be smitten with Isobel for the right reasons. Cam is also their age and has her sights set on Max, much to Max’s flustered, fuse-blowing consternation. Rosa is alive and stays that way dammit, getting the help she needs from Jim who quietly funds her visits to a local counselor. Maria is still dealing with the slow decline of her mother’s mental health but she foregoes the long lonely road of handling it by herself and instead gets the emotional support she needs from Alex and Liz.

Since Isobel doesn’t go dark!Willow on occasion anymore, she and Michael are close in a best-friends sort of way, different from the way in which she’s close with Max. Isobel learns about Michael’s crush on Alex, and the rumors about his home life, long before Alex goes in search of his guitar and the boy who “borrowed” it. The events that take place at Prom, specifically Kyle’s fight with Alex, have been shifted earlier in the school year to happen during Winter Formal. 

A few days after the dance, Sarge is given orders to oversee an “Important New Operation” at one of their bases in the Middle East. His CO’s wife is a member of Mrs. Evans’ bridge club, you see, and the CO happens to run into Isobel after school on his way in to pick up his wife. They have a nice, polite conversation because Isobel has learned a lot from her mother about social graces, and the very next morning, Sarge’s CO calls him into his office with exciting news. 

From the unadulterated glee on Michael’s face, Isobel has the distinct, smug feeling that Alex is even more excited for this “big break” in Sarge’s career than Sarge is. He ships out the following week for a six-month tour, leaving Alex in the capable hands of his three older brothers. Their birth order determines the ratio of douchebaggery they contracted from Sarge, who is, as we already know, 100% douchebag, thus making Flint the third-youngest and only 25% douchebag. Alex and Michael make good use of this ratio and turn of events to be together.

~*~

**“Let no man think we can deny civil liberty to others and retain it for ourselves.”** — Robert M. La Follette

“Where the hell you going, Manes?” Kyle called after Alex as he followed him out of the gym into the cold December night, entourage in tow. “Huh? What are you so afraid of?” 

Alex stopped in his tracks and whirled around, eyes burning with fury. “Say it again.” 

Wow, he really was wearing eyeliner. What the— why? 

Kyle smirked. “Oh, I don't see what the big deal is, Alex. We just have different tastes. I like tacos, and, well, you like... hot dogs.” He let the last two words linger as he cast a quick glance over Alex’s right shoulder at two boys he vaguely recognized in the shadows who were watching this scene unfold.

“That's not what you said,” Alex stepped forward to get in his face. 

Kyle responded in kind, voice heated, eyes intense and challenging. “What did I say?”

“Kyle!”

Great. Liz had found them. He quickly changed tack.

“You know, I just think you're blowing this whole thing out of proportion, Manes,” he tried to say diplomatically.

“So, what, you don't want Liz to hear what you called me?”

Alex didn’t take the bait. Damn.

“You're gonna be one guy with your friends, and another with her?”

Don’t push it, man.

“You are a coward. You always have been.”

Ok, that’s it! 

Kyle saw red. He lunged at Alex a second later but they didn’t get to do much more than take a couple swings at each other before big groping hands pulled them apart. 

“Kyle!” Liz wasn’t really helping here with all the yelling. 

Kyle shook Orozco off his back, ignoring his girlfriend for the moment. “Get off...” 

“You okay?”

Kyle looked up from readjusting his tux when he heard a quiet voice come from behind Alex. He better not have torn anything, he had to return this monkey suit in the morning. 

Guerin? Kyle didn’t even know those two knew each other. Was he the one who pulled Alex off him? Dude looked... worried.

Kyle didn’t hear Alex respond but he seemed to stare at Guerin for a really long time before brushing past his shoulder, almost turning him around in place because he didn’t move out of the way, and stalked off without a backward glance. Oh, so that’s how it was gonna be, huh? 

Well, fuck 'im. It wasn’t Kyle’s fault if he couldn’t take a joke. He’d just take Liz back inside and— 

Liz rushed past him to catch up with Alex. Where was she going?

“Liz, wait!”

“ _¡No me sigas!_ [Don't follow me!],” she yelled over her shoulder. “ _Alex tiene razón._ [Alex is right.] You need to grow [up](https://transcripts.foreverdreaming.org/viewtopic.php?f=861&t=32960&sid=c2cd1be26b016fe0e6d2e7d46457877f).”

Well, shit. Liz only broke out the Spanish with Kyle when she was feeling emotional. He was a heritage speaker but Spanish was Liz’s native tongue and therefore her language of emotion. Sometimes it was a good thing, like when they were making out, but more often than not it was because she thought he’d fucked up. Even he knew not to mess with her when she was this upset or angry, especially when it came to ~~their~~ her best friend. He snorted in frustration like an angry bull and pushed his way through the crowd back into the gym. He needed some spiked punch. 

Fucking Manes.

~*~

**I. “Kindness can be the greatest gift that you can give a person. Especially when they are not expecting it.”** — Random Acts of Kindness Organization

A few weeks later, Kyle was tossing a football back and forth to Orozco and Núñez at the back of the Drive-In on a Friday night. It was their last free weekend before spring semester started and Kyle was itching to get started on his AP Bio and Math classes so he'd been doing a little light reading ahead in his textbooks at home earlier, skipping back and forth to the sections that intrigued him the most. He was the geekiest jock in the whole school and was constantly being teased by his teammates about it but he didn’t care because he was _going_ to get in to Michigan. He definitely had the grades for it. Maybe not as good as Liz’s, but he was going to be a doctor. Maybe even a surgeon. And a damn good one at that. Just like his mom. 

But the other reason he knew he was going to get in had knocked on his front door and dragged him out to their car as soon as he opened it; unlike him, some of his teammates wanted to celebrate their last weekend of winter break tossing the pigskin around in public where they could also ogle girls and flex their biceps. Who was Kyle to deny them that simple pleasure? Besides, he knew Liz was at the Crashdown with Rosa helping their dad with the dinner shift and then she, too, would be eagerly cracking her books open early to see what they’d be learning soon.

So, here he was. At least the movie was halfway decent, and he was partially watching it as he made Orozco go long a couple of times to change things up before going back to easy throws. As long as they didn’t throw the ball into anyone’s car or hit the projector, the Drive-in proprietors let them be. Kyle figured with a smirk that it probably had something to do with the fact that football players could eat their weight in concession stand food, which was where the old theatre made most of its income anyway. 

Speaking of food, intermission had just been announced by cartoon hot dogs and soft drinks tap-dancing across a curtained stage, and Kyle’s stomach responded to that particular Pavlovian bell by grumbling for something salty and fatty.

Kyle caught the next ball that Núñez fired his way and held on to it, jerking his head in the direction of the concession stand. They waited in line for their food and walked around the parking lot afterward eating it, too full of restless energy to stand around in one spot. And it’s not like they were going to let themselves be seen all piled together into one car at the Drive-in. Fuck no.

The jock geek had just taken another bite of his hot dog as he rounded the hood of an old beat-up Chevy truck when there came a derisive snort from the other side of the windshield. The sound had carried out through the driver’s side window, and Kyle paused as he cleared the wide sideview mirror, squinting to peer inside the darkened cab. The window was rolled all the way down, which was a little odd given it was still January in the desert. Most couples brought lots of blankets and cuddled together inside their cars to watch the movie, but this guy was just casually leaning back in his seat, left arm resting on the open sill, right arm wrapped snugly around his cozy-looking, “Alex?!” Kyle mumbled around a mouthful of food.

“What’s the matter, Valenti, were they all out of _tacos_ tonight?” Alex quipped.

The dead look in his eyes made the taste of the food in Kyle’s mouth turn ashen. His teammates tried to muffle their snickers by shoving more fries into their gobs. He glared at them as he swallowed awkwardly before he’d finished chewing, his temper flaring, appetite gone.

Kyle then narrowed his eyes at Guerin, now that he saw those infamous curls, then at the way Alex was shamelessly draped around him with his head resting in the crook of the ranch hand’s shoulder and neck. Suddenly, their little confab at Winter Formal made a whole lot more sense. Huh. 

“What are you doing here?” He hissed as if afraid to be overheard, gesticulating at the two of them in short, choppy movements with his other hand.

That emo-punk-goth-whatever had the gall to just roll his eyes! Talking to Alex was like trying to reason with a petulant child these days, really. Guerin seemed content to just sit there, silently observing, and no doubt judging, Kyle.

“What if your dad catches wind of this?” Kyle tried again.

Another derisive snort, but at least this time it wasn’t directed at Kyle. He looked around them with shifty eyes, trying to see if he could pick out the older Manes brothers’ vehicles in the lot. There always seemed to be at least one of Alex’s three brothers skulking around, keeping tabs on the youngest’s whereabouts. Kyle had always found that to be a little strange, but then again, what did he know, he was an only child, so growing up he’d just mentally shrugged and continued looking up to Alex’s brothers like they could do no wrong. 

Alex stretched like a cat against Guerin’s side and opened his mouth but only a yawn came out. Kyle frowned at Alex’s nonchalance. 

“Gee, Valenti, it almost sounded like you cared there for a second,” he drawled as he resettled himself against his, what, boyfriend?

Before Kyle could say anything though, Alex lifted Guerin’s left hand from the windowsill to look at the non-existent watch on his wrist. “Oh wait, my bad. The last time that happened was half-past three years ago,” he continued, voice dripping with sarcasm as Guerin laced their fingers together and let their hands settle in his lap.

Kyle rolled his eyes. Ugh. Here we go again. Same old shit. Guerin was still placidly staring at him so he decided to take his frustration out on him next. “What?” He snapped at the cowboy, then flicked a glance at Alex before retorting, “cat got your tongue, Guerin?”

Quicker than he could blink, Alex tilted his head back to lick the side of Guerin’s face, smirking at Kyle before he could look away, eyes bulging in shock.

There were muffled choking sounds behind him but Kyle was too caught up in what had just happened to pay them any mind. A second later he kind of wished he had turned around because Guerin had fucking _giggled_ at the sensation and turned to catch Alex’s lips with his own in a short-but-still-way-too-long-for-Kyle’s-liking kiss.

“Yeah,” came the laconic reply a few seconds later. “You could say that.”

Kyle glared some more before finally twisting around to see how his teammates were doing. Núñez was still coughing a little bit, his cheeks reddened from the effort. “You okay?”

The other boy nodded and sipped more of his soda, looking kind of embarrassed about causing a scene.

The next words out of Guerin’s mouth brought Kyle up short and he whipped his head back around to stare at Guerin like he hadn’t heard him properly. “Wait, what?”

“Why are you so interested in our love life, Kyle?” Guerin repeated, a little too calmly for Kyle’s liking.

“Me, interested? In your lo— I’m not in-inter— what? No...” Kyle stuttered, verbally tripping over his own two feet. The long-forgotten, half-eaten hot dog in his hand was now flinging mustard and relish into the dirt as he gesticulated wildly with his hands.

His rambling was met with one raised eyebrow disappearing under those goddamn curls that Kyle was abso-fucking-lutely _not_ jealous of, nope.

Kyle looked over at Alex in a panic, but his ex-best friend had returned his attention to the screen, snuggling even more into Guerin’s side, if that was even possible, effectively dismissing Kyle where he stood gaping at them like a simpleton.

The lights of the concession stand flickered behind them then, signaling the end of intermission.

“Well, if you’ll excuse us, Kyle, we have to get back to the movie now. K just sent J over to check on that poor pregnant woman in her car on the highway and I don’t want to miss it,” Guerin said politely while he manually rolled up his window. “The tentacles are my favorite part,” he added with a wink.

The last thing Kyle heard before the window closed was the sound of Alex laughing. A sound he hadn’t heard in a long time. A sound he used to be responsible for making on a daily basis.

The sound of car doors opening and closing as movie-goers got ready for the second half of the movie jarred Kyle out of his stupor and he motioned for his teammates to follow him to the back of the Drive-in lot. He finished the rest of his hot dog because he’d been raised not to waste food but he barely tasted any of it.

Luckily for Kyle, his friends knew not to give him a hard time about certain things and Alex was one of those things. They sat down a proper distance away from each other against the wall next to the concession stand and watched the rest of the movie in a subdued manner.

Kyle never did come up with a good answer to Guerin’s question.

~*~

**II. “Long ago it was said that "one half of the world does not know how the other half lives." That was true then. It did not know because it did not care. The half that was on top cared little for the struggles, and less for the fate of those who were underneath, so long as it was able to hold them there and keep its own seat. There came a time when the discomfort and consequent upheavals so violent, that it was no longer an easy thing to do, and then the upper half fell to inquiring what was the matter. Information on the subject has been accumulating rapidly since, and the whole world has had its hands full answering for its old ignorance.”** — Jacob A. Riis, How the Other Half Lives (1890)

Spring break was almost here and Kyle was ready to celebrate with Liz in style. He’d just found out he got in to Michigan, oh yeah baby, and he couldn’t wait to get to the computer lab to share the good news with his girlfriend. He knew she was in the midst of submitting her college essays and internship applications to different prestigious biomedical engineering departments around the country, but she’d still be happy for him, right? Right.

The warm desert sun bathed the campus in a golden, late afternoon glow as Kyle strode purposefully down the walkway towards the science building, his head lost in thought planning an amorous celebratory evening. Maybe a nice dinner out at their favorite Italian restaurant, a stroll downtown for some ice cream, and then maybe a drive out to the old quarry for some quality one-on-one time under the— 

“Whoa! Sorry, man. Not payin’ attention,” he apologized as he sidestepped a couple walking down the hall hand-in-hand.

“It’s fine,” replied a short, red-headed boy with a quiet mien and light blue eyes. Kyle was about to smile back in thanks when the other boy, who was clad all in black right down to the arm bands covering his forearms, sent him a death glare and pulled his boyfriend closer and out of sight around the corner of the building. 

Kyle did a double take, then realized he’d just missed the entrance to the computer lab. He backtracked a dozen steps and went inside.

“Why the fuck is our school being overrun with homos all of a sudden?!” He ranted as soon as he spotted Liz at her usual table. 

He could swear he saw Liz roll her eyes. Her computer project must really be frustrating her. “The Eighties called. They want their bro-jock back,” she deadpanned, eyes still on the computer screen.

“What?!” Kyle replied indignantly, “Come on, first Alex, now some redhead in the hall—”

“Oh, that was my Sosch partner,” she supplied, ruffling the papers on the table, apparently in search of something. She made an aha! sound when she located it pushed behind the computer monitor.

“Your what?”

“Neil,” she pointed at the screen, eyes scanning the paper she’d uncovered, attention only half on Kyle. “My partner for the project we’re doing in Sociology.”

“Oh,” Kyle glanced at the screen, “what’s his boyfriend’s deal?” but all he could see were different kinds of tacos and hotdogs against a white background. Ok, weird, much? “Your project is about food?”

Liz finished scribbling some notes in the margins of the paper she’d located and began gathering up her research and books. “Who, Andrew?” She smiled fondly. “Oh, he’s just protective of Neil is all. Plus, he knows Neil doesn’t like to be late for Exy practice but Neil isn’t always cognizant of how fast time passes in the lab when we’re neck deep in research.” She began shuttling things from the table into her backpack, “and it’s not about food. The food is a metaphor.”

“For what?”

“Sexual preference.”

Kyle’s eyebrows shot up, his voice a little squeaky in panic, “Excuse me?” Had Alex told her what Kyle said to him at Winter Formal?!

Liz paused in the middle of zipping up her bag to consider Kyle for a moment, a familiar calculating gleam in her eye which suddenly had Kyle worried that Alex had, in fact, told her. 

She pulled out the chair she’d just pushed in, “Sit.”

Kyle hesitated for only a moment before taking a seat when she raised an imperious eyebrow at him. He wasn’t sure why he was surprised, _they_ were still best friends, after all.

“I think you need to watch this [video](https://youtu.be/hvoH2wU9IfA), Kyle. You can be our test audience. You want to be a _supportive_ boyfriend,” she emphasized when Kyle opened his mouth to interject, “don’t you?”

Kyle bristled at the implication. “Hey, I’m supportive!”

“Great!” Liz kissed his temple. “Take notes cuz there will be a quiz later.” She leaned down to whisper in his ear, “there’s extra credit in it for you if you get all the answers right.” Kyle shivered at the thought and was going to steal a kiss but his lips met nothing but air, because she was striding over to a nearby counter where she grabbed a sheet of printer paper and a pencil. “I gotta go help Papá with the dinner shift, _gracias, mi amor._ [thanks, my love]” She slapped the paper and pencil down next to him and with a wave of her hand and a flip of her luxurious long black hair, she was gone.

Kyle sat there a bit shell-shocked, breathing in the perfume of her shampoo left in the wake of her departure.

Well, shit. 

This was definitely _not_ how he thought his evening was going to go.

Fucking homos.

He glared at the computer screen and wanted to put his head down on the desk as he realized what he’d just thought. 

Stupid double entendres. 

Begrudgingly, he picked up the pencil, arranged the keyboard and mouse so he had room to write on the paper and clicked play. If there was one thing Liz knew about him, it was that he could never back down from an intellectual challenge. And she had definitely thrown down the gauntlet today. She had him by the short and curlies, and she knew it.

Kyle never did get a chance to tell Liz that he’d been accepted to Michigan.

~*~

**III. The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.** — Lao Tzu 

Kyle was never going to be able to look at a taco or hotdog in the same way ever again. After the one-two punch of watching Liz’s sociology project video and watching a video in Health when they came back from spring break about just where hotdogs do come from and how they’re made, it had been a couple of months before Kyle could even look at a hotdog without wanting to hurl.

And eating tacos now made him feel guilty for some inexplicable reason. WTF. As much as he wanted to deny it, Liz’s video used idiot-proof logic, and Kyle had been the idiot they needed to take it for a test drive. It was nearly June now, Prom was just around the corner, and Kyle was mature enough intellectually to admit that her video had exposed an emotionally immature nerve in him.

It was no wonder that she and Neil had gotten A’s on their sociology project. 

_Now if Tommy, who likes tacos, didn’t like Nick because he likes hotdogs, that would seem a bit silly..._

That particularly innocuous-sounding comment from Liz’s video had been haunting Kyle’s subconscious for the last two months. It had bugged him to the point where he had actually turned down (politely, of course) his own mother’s homemade tacos for dinner one night in late May, mumbling something about needing to study for his AP Bio test before making an awkward escape to his room.

He obviously hadn’t fooled anyone at the kitchen table because his mom appeared in his doorway thirty minutes later with a fresh batch of tacos for him ‘just in case’ he got hungry while studying. Kyle wasn’t sure why he thought he’d get away with it; he normally bragged about his mom’s tacos to practically anyone who was within earshot because she made the best ones in town. Only Arturo at the Crashdown gave her a run for her money.

“Thanks, mamá,” Kyle said a bit sheepishly as he looked up from his ginormous biology textbook. His growling stomach offered up its thanks, too; it didn’t have any qualms about eating this delicious food because it hadn’t had anything to eat since before football practice and that was hours ago. The knowing smile his mother gave him was kind though.

“You’re welcome, _cariño_ [dear]. Growing boy like you needs to fuel his body as well as his mind.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Everything going alright between you and Liz?”

“Yeah, yes, fine, thanks,” Kyle blushed a little as he answered his mom, shoving half of a taco in his mouth so he wouldn’t have to elaborate. He still felt awkward talking about girls with her sometimes, which was kind of silly when she’d known Liz since the three of them had been knee-high to her waist, running around pell-mell in the backyard, screaming and hollering as they played Knights and Princesses or Cowboys and Indians.

The three of them...

And when it wasn’t the three musketeers running around, it was just the two of them. Kyle and Alex had been inseparable, both sharing a love of puzzles, mysteries, and listening to stories Kyle’s mom would tell them about the surgeries she’d performed and the research she’d done. 

Each year at Halloween when they were little, she’d pull out her photo album, the special one that his dad had created for her as a congratulatory gift when she’d received her surgeon’s coat, and pick out photos to show the boys. She would embellish greatly the blood and guts involved in the surgery depicted in the photo, doing her motherly best to tell her son and his best friend the spookiest medical stories she could without traumatizing them for real, of course.

Kyle and Alex just ate up those scary stories and always asked to look at more photos, to which Kyle’s mom would always tell them they had to wait until next Halloween. Once they got into middle school and showed more of an aptitude for reading academic writing, she began sharing some of the research articles she came across in her daily work that she thought they’d enjoy.

Alex and Kyle loved reading those articles and then ~~bickering over~~ debating the differing opinions regarding each case that was brought forth. Sometimes the articles came from prestigious medical journals. Sometimes, his own mother had co-authored one of the articles and she let the boys proofread it for her as a language exercise. A lot of the words went right over their heads, of course, but boy if that didn’t encourage Kyle to break out his trusty dictionary! He even created a medical term glossary at the back of his spiral-bound science notebook so that he could add the words he liked as he read each article.

The soft puff of air being displaced as a group of papers brushed against his forearm pulled Kyle from his reverie. He looked down to see that his mom had brought him a new medical journal article to read. Man, was she psychic or what? 

Kyle turned questioning eyes up at his mom, “why now? You haven’t brought me an article to read in months.”

She merely smiled and shrugged, eyes imbued with a mysterious air of wisdom, something she’d inherited from her own mother. “You looked like you could use a break from wrapping your brain around alleles and genes for a few minutes, so I thought maybe you’d like to read this new article I found at work while you eat your dinner.”

A huge yawn escaped through Kyle’s mouth right then, and he rubbed at his work-worn eyes in agreement. “Yeah, I guess I could take a quick break,” he replied as she bent to kiss his temple before turning to head back downstairs. “Thanks again for the food!”

Kyle was determined to enjoy his mom’s cooking tonight dammit! He picked up the next taco on the plate and took a hearty bite as he started reading the research article, dropping bits of taco shell all over his desk. Eh. You know what that famous Carl’s Jr. commercial said, “If it doesn’t get all over the place, it doesn’t belong in your face.”

_[Prenatal Music Exposure Induces Long-Term Neural Effects](https://journals.plos.org/plosone/article?id=10.1371/journal.pone.0078946)_

Ooh, she was doing research into how music affected neutral pathways in babies! ‘Alex would love to read this!’ Kyle thought absentmindedly as he took the next bite.

He was halfway through the abstract when the echo in his brain bounced back to him and he stopped mid-chew. 

Wait, what?

Kyle shook his head to clear it and started over.

> We investigated the neural correlates induced by prenatal exposure to melodies using brains' event-related potentials (ERPs). During the last trimester of pregnancy, the mothers in the learning group played the ‘Twinkle twinkle little star’ -melody 5 times per week. After birth and again at the age of 4 months, we played the infants a modified melody in which some of the notes were changed while ERPs to unchanged and changed notes were recorded. The ERPs were also recorded from a control group, who received no prenatal stimulation. Both at birth and at the age of 4 months, infants in the learning group had stronger ERPs to the unchanged notes than the control group. Furthermore, the ERP amplitudes to the changed and unchanged notes at birth were correlated with the amount of prenatal exposure. Our results show that extensive prenatal exposure to a melody induces neural representations that last for several months.

“Whoa,” Kyle said softly to the room at large in his best Keanu Reeves impression. “That is most excellent!” He snickered to himself. _Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure_ was one of their favorite movies growing up. Alex definitely needed to read this article! He’d gotten a chance to play guitar for the first time ever when he and Kyle were helping the music teacher move some instruments after school one day while they waited for one of Alex’s brothers to pick them up and Alex had asked if he could hold the guitar. That day when Kyle had gone home he’d immediately asked his dad if anyone in their family had a guitar that Alex could borrow cuz he was totally hooked and—

Kyle sucked in a quick breath before letting his head drop to the desk with a pathetic-sounding _thud_. —And that was over three years ago. When Kyle was still his best friend.

Alex had his own guitar now, Kyle had seen him playing it often enough in the bleachers at home games when Liz and Maria dragged him out there, or when he was rolling around campus on his skateboard with it strapped to his back, which never seemed to get him in trouble even though kids weren’t supposed to ride at school. 

He’d even seen Guerin playing Alex’s guitar while they sat in the back of Guerin’s shitty pickup after school a couple days this week, not that Kyle paid them any mind or anything. Not his fault that Guerin didn’t understand how to park in the parking lot and always seemed to be sticking out onto the grass between the bleachers instead. They weren’t doing anything back there he wanted to see anyway. Nope. And it’s not like Alex’s giggles and singing and curses carried onto the football field where Kyle was trying to practice for their last home game against Santa Fe (whom they were going to cream, btw), making it hard for him to concentrate when those sounds stopped emanating from the truck bed but nobody got out...

Kyle banged his head a few more times against the desk for good measure before taking a calming breath and raising it on the exhale. A few small pieces of taco shell tumbled down his forehead onto the desk, a few others into his lap. Whatever. 

So the fuck what? Alex was obviously still into music, right, wasn’t that whole black eyeliner and nail polish thing part of the emo punk goth music scene or whatever? Therefore, ergo, he would still be interested in hearing about this cool new research that Kyle’s mom had found for them, just like old times.

‘Yeah. So just call him, dumbass!’

Kyle rolled his eyes at his inner self, so bossy!, but reached across the desk regardless for his phone. He dialed Alex’s home number by rote, it was muscle memory after a lifetime of calling the Manes household to ask if Alex could come out to play. An involuntary nostalgic sigh escaped from his lungs while he waited for someone to pick up. And waited. And waited. Ok then, nobody home. Their answering machine must be full because it never clicked on...

Kyle shrugged and decided to call Alex’s cell phone instead. They had both saved up some money over the summer before freshman year so that they could each buy one of the base models so that they could feel cool going into high school, and for other things like keeping in touch with their parents, blah blah blah. Well, more like so Alex could touch base with Kyle’s parents if he needed to. Alex’s dad never seemed to care how late Alex was out, probably because he always had one of his older sons skulking around. 

The more Kyle thought about that as he looked for his contacts list because he hadn’t used the number enough to memorize it before— um, well, that is... *ahem* anyway— the more he thought about it the weirder it started to sound. Why purport not to care what your youngest son is up to on any given day but then send out his older brothers to report back on his activities and whereabouts? Aha! Found it. He pressed Call as he pushed leftover cheese around on his plate.

_doo dee dit- We’re sorry, but the number you have dialed has been disconnected or is no longer in service. Please hang up and try your call again...doo dee dit- We’re sorry—_

Kyle’s brow furrowed in consternation as he frowned down at his phone. The automated message played twice more before he managed to push the End Call button, still staring at the phone like it had been reciting that message in Swahili.

What. The. Fuck.

He called for backup.

“Hey, _guapo,_ [handsome] what’s up?”

Kyle was suddenly nervous. He stammered out, “Hi, Liz, ummm, do you, uhh, happen to have—” but cut himself off at how stupid he sounded. ‘Of course she has his number, you idiot!’

“Hold on, babe, Papá’s calling for me from the kitchen. _¡Ya voy! Te paso a Rosa, pronto vuelvo,”_ [Coming! Here’s Rosa, be right back.] 

_”¿Qué tal, cachorro?”_ [lit. What’s up, puppy dog? - except it has a bad connotation when used as slang, as in someone who’s up to no good, a jerk]

Kyle grumbled, _“no me llames así”_ [don’t call me that]. Ugh, sometimes he didn’t like being an only child. This was not one of those times.

Rosa gave no quarter, ruthless as ever. “ _¿Has invitado a mi reina al baile?_ ” [lit. Have you invited my queen to the dance? - big-sister-talk for how protective Rosa is of Liz towards Kyle]

Kyle wanted to drop his head back onto the desk in frustration at big sisters who asked needling questions to which they already knew the answers.

Kyle had never been happier to hear Liz’s voice return in the background before he had time to answer Rosa, which of course didn’t stop her from getting one final jab in before handing the phone back, “ _qué seas pronto, cachorro._ ” [best do it soon, boy]

“Papá needs our help sweeping up downstairs; I told him I’d be right back as soon as Kyle told me what he needed, go,” Liz shooed her sister from the room. “Sorry about that, did you just call to say hi or did you need something?”

“Go to Prom with me?” Kyle blurted out in a panicked rush. 

Stupid big sisters.

“Awww, I’d love to, Kyle, thank you for asking.”

“Um, you’re welcome,” Kyle was relieved she’d said yes so readily but even more annoyed with Rosa now. He’d had a much more romantic plan in mind for asking Liz to the big dance! “Uh, sorry, I had a much nicer plan to ask you but then your sister... and I got nervous... and ummm—”

He heard Liz chuckle over the line, “awww, you’re so sweet, don’t worry about her, she’s just over-protective.”

Kyle huffed at that and muttered under his breath, “I’ll say.”

“So, if that wasn’t the reason you called, what was?” She asked cheerily. 

“Have you called Alex on his cellphone recently?”

“Yeah,” Kyle could hear the cheerfulness sliding out of her voice to be replaced with wary confusion, “just spoke to him about an hour ago, he was on his way out to watch _The Dark Knight_ with Michael at the Drive-in... why?”

Ok, that explained why it was possible that nobody had picked up the house phone if Sgt. Manes wasn’t at home either. But it didn’t explain the out-of-service message. “I was uh trying to call Alex but—”

“ _You_ were trying to call _Alex_?”

Kyle’s stomach dropped at the tone of incredulity in her voice. His palms were sweaty for some stupid reason all of a sudden. He wiped them one at a time up and down his jean-covered thighs in a nervous bid to dry them off. 

“Yeah, see cuz there’s this research article my mom gave me and it’s about music and I wanted to tell him about it cuz I know he’ll like what they’ve done with the experiment—” Kyle’s inner crank yelled at him to stop rambling and get to the point, “—but when I called his number I got an out-of-service message, which can’t be right...” Kyle was waiting for Liz to correct him. “Can it?” He added in a small voice, starting to dread the answer the longer she remained silent.

He heard her heave a big sigh. Shit, this was gonna hurt, he could tell.

“At the end of fall semester freshman year, Alex changed his phone number.”

Yep. First degree burn.

“He said he was conducting a social experiment to see who really cared about him and who didn’t. The people who cared would seek him out to get his new number when they called the old one and got an out-of-service message.”

Ouch. Second degree.

“The people who didn’t really care about him, well...” Liz paused a moment before continuing in a quieter voice. “The only ones who didn’t come to him wondering why his phone wasn’t working were his two oldest brothers, his father, and—”

“And... me,” Kyle finished for her, voice cracking slightly.

Forget third degree. Kyle was a crispy critter.

“Okay, be right down!” Liz’s voice sounded muffled as she must have put the phone against her chest for a moment. “Sorry, Kyle, I gotta go help clean-up downstairs.”

“Yeah, no, of course, sorry to have kept you from helping,” Kyle stumbled over his tongue to apologize. He knew how hard Arturo worked to keep his restaurant running in tip-top shape. “Please say _hola_ to your dad for me.”

“Will do, _amor_. I’ll text you later, k?”

“Ok sure, yeah, later.”

Kyle hung up the phone feeling a little queasy. By the end of fall semester freshman year, he’d already signed up for JV and started hanging out with Orozco and Núñez after school. Pressure to fit into the hyper-masculine sports culture at school and the weight of his full load of classes had both contributed to the erosion of Kyle’s friendship with Alex. Right when it sounded like he needed his best friend the most. 

Great job, Valenti. 

He tried to clear his head by taking several deep breaths and attempting to go back to studying for his AP Bio test but he kept screwing up his Punnett Squares so he gave up for the night and read the research article instead before stripping down to his boxers and brushing his teeth before bed. 

He was getting ready to go to sleep when his phone pinged with a message from Liz.

—If you are serious about sharing this article with Alex, you need to talk to him face-to-face. 

Kyle heaved a sigh and tapped out a quick response.

—i am  
—i mean i will

—good. I miss us being the three musketeers :)

Kyle chuckled to himself.

—yeah me too  
—ive been...

—a big fat jerk?

—hey now! i thought you were supposed to be a supportive girlfriend

—this IS me being supportive

—ugh yeah okay, guilty as charged  
—but i really do wanna make it up to him liz

—you will  
— _confío en ti_ [I believe in you]

Kyle felt those three words wrap around him like a warm blanket and he smiled into his pillow as he sent his girlfriend several <3’s and a _gracias, preciosa_ [thanks, precious] before setting his phone down on his night stand. 

He drifted off to sleep thinking of all the facts presented in the music research article and guessing which ones Alex would debate (aka bicker) with him the most.

~*~

**+1. It’s not a person’s mistakes which define them - it’s the way they make amends.** —Freya North

Kyle had every intention of walking up to Alex at school and talking to him. He had it all planned out how he’d use the music research article to break the ice so they could get a conversation going at lunch or maybe after school, and Kyle would work his way up to an apology. But that’s where he got stuck each time that he saw Alex in the halls, going to his locker, chatting with classmates, meeting Guerin for lunch on the tailgate of his truck.

How did one apologize for three _years_ of immature bullying behavior? Kyle sure as hell didn’t know. On the one hand, he’d stopped saying mean things to or about Alex after that run-in with him and Guerin at the Drive-in during winter break. Well, he’d stopped talking to him altogether after that, so he supposed that was, what, good? It’s not what Kyle wanted, but he’d made his bed and now he had to lie in it until he could man-up and apologize.

Because that’s what it boiled down to, wasn’t it? He’d had six months to think about the lifelong friendship he’d thrown out the window all because he was scared. 

Man, Yoda was so right. _Fear is the path to the dark side. Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering._

But why was he scared of his own best friend?

Kyle pondered this question right up until the week of Prom, and was walking into the parking lot after school to go rent his tuxedo for the big dance the next night when he saw Alex’s older brother Flint picking Alex up, in a Humvee of all vehicles, and something clicked in his head, stopping him up short.

Luckily, he was almost to his car so he quickly slid into the driver’s seat before he got run over by an oblivious teenager backing their car out at top speed without checking their rearview mirror. 

His mind was racing as it worked to put together the puzzle pieces that had just shaken loose, triggered by the sight of one of the older Manes boys shepherding their younger charge around town like he wasn’t fit to do so by himself. 

One of the Manes boys that Kyle had looked up to with all the fervor of an only child who thinks his best friend’s older brothers are the ideal role models because he has no basis for comparison. The three older brothers who all followed in the same footsteps as their illustrious, straight-laced, militant father. 

The one who planned all those “outdoor survival camping trips” in the back forty of the Valenti hunting cabin and waited for Kyle and Alex to come back from the nearby stream, which was more like a creek, with dinner in their nets or none at all.

The one who walked into his living room one evening in the fall of their freshman year of high school to see his youngest son tangled up with his best friend’s only son on the couch watching a rerun of a _Buffy_ Halloween episode. 

_Cordelia: “Does looking at guns make *you* wanna have sex?”_

_Xander: “I’m seventeen. Looking at linoleum makes me wanna have sex.”_

Kyle could feel the reverberations of Alex’s snickering in his ribs where Alex was half-lounging on top of him, half-lying behind him on the couch, as they had done for years, preferring to be each other’s blankets rather than use the scratchy wool ones that sat inside the coffee table chest.

The one who had walked over to the television set, turned it off in the middle of the show, and told Kyle in a mild tone, which nevertheless brooked no argument, that his parents had called to say supper was ready and that he’d give Kyle a ride home. 

Kyle was jerked out of his memories with a gasp. He recognized now as a young man of seventeen the look on Sgt. Manes’ face that he’d missed in his innocence as a boy of fourteen: it was the look of a man who was scared that his son was looking at another boy with the same thoughts in mind as the character on the screen.

“Holy fuck,” Kyle breathed out in a long exhale that got stuck halfway out of his throat as one of his hands cramped up on him. He looked down to see why and found them gripping the steering wheel, knuckles white from pressure, fingers clenched around the steering column like they were trying to wring its scrawny little neck. 

He suddenly had an image of an entirely different kind of neck he wanted to wring out.

Another five minutes passed until Kyle felt calm enough to start the car and drive downtown to pick up his tux.

~*~

Kyle was nervous. And already sweating under his suit jacket as he walked into the gym with Liz on his arm. And strangely hungry, which was at odds with all the butterflies flapping around in his stomach. Not enough protein perhaps. 

Ugh, even his inner geek was too anxious to laugh at his corny jokes. 

He needed a distraction STAT.

Oh hey, punch!

He steered Liz in the direction of the punch bowl and served them both a clear plastic goblet of red juice. Mmm, tasted like Hi-C Hawaiian Punch. Gotta love the no-expenses-spared budget of the ASB prom committee, oh yeah. Not spiked yet either. Well, depending on how this night went, maybe Kyle wouldn’t need to come back over here after it was inevitably enlivened, like he did at Winter Formal. 

He almost groaned into his cup as he looked around at the sparse crowd of other awkward teenagers.

Kyle knew they were early, but he’d been too nervous to wait any longer to pick Liz up from the Crashdown, so he’d called and asked her if she was ready and to his great surprise, she’d said she was. Kyle had to begrudgingly thank Rosa for helping get her little sister all made up with time to spare. She’d just smirked at him and then gathered them all together for a family photo near the jukebox before Arturo took over photography duties and snapped a bunch more of Liz, Kyle, and Rosa in various combinations.

The pang of guilt in Kyle’s gut that if it weren’t for him the three musketeers would have also been getting their pictures taken together was what had started him on his current track towards being a nervous wreck.

Ok, time for another distraction!

“Quiz me,” Kyle blurted out as they sat down at a table which had a good view of the double doors leading in from the gymnasium’s foyer. Kyle sat with his back to the door so he wouldn’t have to watch with baited breath each time another guy stepped over the threshold. Each time it wasn’t Alex Manes. Kyle was half-dreading, half-hoping that he showed up with Guerin on his arm. That he showed up at all. Oh shit! What if he wasn’t coming to the dance? Kyle hadn’t been able to ask Liz if he was going to go, too embarrassed now about his brutish behavior at the last dance. Kyle needed something to focus on, quick, so he tuned everything else out and just took in the lovely sight of his other best friend sitting next to him...

“Ok, what’s your poison?” Liz was asking cheerily as she kept one eye on the door while Kyle quietly had his internal meltdown.

“Damn, you’re beautiful.”

Liz tilted her head to give him her full attention and smiled warmly. “Interesting choice, are we doing this a là _Jeopardy!_ with answers and questions?”

Kyle blushed and reached over to take her hand, rearranging the corsage he’d placed there earlier. “No, that was just me feeling like the luckiest guy here to have you for a girlfriend.”

Liz’s smile blossomed into a full-blown grin and she batted her eyelashes at him prettily before leaning over for a sweet kiss. “You say the nicest things sometimes.”

Kyle had recently gone through an emotional maturity growth spurt and wanted more practice trying out this new self-deprecating charm he’d discovered he possessed.

“When I’m not too busy being a, how did you put it? A bro-jock from an 80’s movie, yeah, I know,” he winked at her as he attempted to say it nonchalantly.

Apparently, he succeeded because her eyes widened in surprise and then crinkled at the corners as she squeezed his hand and looked at him like she was... proud of him? He wasn’t sure but he damn well wanted to find out.

He cleared his throat. “But actually, I was thinking you could quiz me on that video you did for uh, for your sociology project?” Her whole face softened, so he continued, “I did take notes and ummm, yeah, but I never got a chance to earn my extra credit,” he looked up at her from under his lashes, going for hopeful and demure.

“Well, aren’t you full of surprises tonight, Kyle Valenti,” she said with a fond smile that Kyle wanted to put there as often as possible.

He gave her a toothy smile and they were off. Liz was a practiced quiz master, and they’d spent many an enjoyable evening over the last couple of years in the Crashdown, at Kyle’s house, or out on the town taking turns randomly quizzing each other on school subjects or fun pop culture trivia.

Five minutes later, the gym was starting to fill up with starchily-dressed teenage boys and sparkly-attired teenage girls. Kyle was feeling a little more relaxed now that he was doing something he was good at: taking tests on subjects that were important for him, or in this case, important to him, when Liz threw a curveball at him. They’d expanded the subject matter into other topics from her sociology class as well, and Kyle had aced all of the questions, digging back into his mental notes all the way back to fall semester.

“Ok, for two points, and the ace in the hole,” she snickered at a joke that he felt like he wasn’t yet privy to, “which dish did Shane like in the video?”

Kyle’s face scrunched up in a mishmash of concentration and consternation.

Liz started singing the _Final Jeopardy!_ song since it was the last question in their game. But also, just to try to rattle him if the teasing glint in her eye was anything to go by.

“Shane liked... he was the one who wanted to know what the ingredients were first before he uh decided which dish he liked?”

“Is that your final answer?”

Kyle realized he’d sounded unsure, so he nodded his head and tried to look confident in his answer. Because he was sure, he just didn’t understand why. “Yes.”

“Ding ding ding! We have a winner!” Liz proclaimed in a boxing referee voice. The DJ had started playing music so she didn’t even have to lower her voice.

_“Bien hecho, mi amor,”_ [Well done, my love] she crooned as she rewarded him with another kiss. Kyle smiled into the kiss, deepening it just because he could, because she made him feel like he was worth it.

_“Gracias, preciosa,”_ [Thanks, precious] Kyle replied before settling back in his seat, their hands still twined together, his eyebrows bunched together in thought.

“You look confused.”

“Well, I just, some of the explanations in that video were kinda um, confusing is all.”

Liz must have seen some of their friends arrive because her face lit up in that moment and she popped up from her seat, smoothing down her dress, looking down at Kyle expectantly. 

“Shut up and dance!”

Or maybe not. Kyle looked a little stunned but scrambled to get out of his chair, “uhh, ok, let’s go,” and held out his hand.

Liz looked from his face to his outstretched hand and back to his face before throwing her own hand up to cover, but not touch, her ruby red, highly distracting mouth, her eyes looking chagrined. “Oh no, babe, I’m sorry, I wasn’t telling you to— it’s the name of this song!”

“Song?” 

“The one that’s playing right now. By Walk on the Moon. I just got excited when it started playing, sorry. Since we’re up though, we might as well dance to it, come on!”

Oh. Right. Sure. Maybe Kyle needed to listen to the radio more often. Or maybe he needed to calm the fuck down if he was going to be rattled this easily. 

Liz led them out to the dance floor, far enough away from the stage that they could actually hear each other speak without having to be pressed cheek to cheek. Not that Kyle would mind that—

“What’s wrong, Kyle? You normally bust my chops when I boss you around, even if accidentally in this case. I mean, you still do whatever it is I’ve asked you to do, but you don’t normally look this... nervous.” She looked up into his eyes but this wasn’t a slow song so he couldn’t hold her close, couldn’t inhale the sweet smell of confidence that wafted off of her like her own personal perfume, “What was it you were saying about the video?”

Kyle cleared his throat in a bid to clear up his scattered thoughts as well. “It’s nothing, we can talk about it later.”

“No, it’s fine, go ahead. If you have questions, I’d like to help clear up any confusion you might be feeling.” She rubbed her hand up and down his arm as the faster dance song faded out and a slower one faded in, perfect for talking to your dance partner. Kyle reached out to pull her to his chest, reveling in the way she fit so comfortably in his arms.

“Sorry, I’m just nervous about seeing Alex tonight. I’m gonna do it, I’m going to talk to him, Liz.”

She smiled up at him and squeezed his hand in encouragement. 

In the meantime, however, he needed to relax a little more so he decided to indulge in her caring nature. “I feel bad saying this, but before I watched your video, I really hadn’t, uh, ever given it much thought that there could be people out there who liked, um, all those different... dishes.” He looked down at her collarbone to gather his thoughts as the two of them slowly twirled around the dance floor with the other couples.

He shrugged. “Some of the explanations were surprising to me. Like that Shane guy and needing to know what the ingredients are before deciding if he likes the taco or the hotdog. Dude, it’s a taco, everyone knows what goes into a taco, right?”

Liz gave him a fond but also kind of devious smile. “Okay, riddle me this, Batman. What is the first impression people get of you when you’re wearing your letterman’s jacket?”

“That I’m a football player.”

“Do they know you’re going to be a med student?”

“Well, no, not unless I tell them.”

“How would you rather them think of you: dumb jock or smart med student?” She lifted an eyebrow a second later to cut Kyle off at the pass. “And no, you can’t choose both. We’re talking first impressions only, here.”

That was a no-brainer. “Smart med student,” Kyle replied, dipping Liz when the music hit a fanfare before moving on to the next stanza. “The football scholarship is just a means to an end.”

She nodded sagely like she already knew. He wasn’t surprised; sometimes he thought she knew him better than he did himself.

“So, would you agree that while you can presume to know what ingredients are inside the taco from a glance at the shell, you can’t be sure until you ask the person serving the taco?”

“Yeah, of course, cuz there could be, like, jalapeños in there or some— ohhhh. I see what you did there,” Kyle looked down at his brilliant girlfriend. “When did you get so clever?”

“Hey, I’ve always been this clever, señor,” Liz replied confidently.

Kyle laughed as he spun her out and back in as the music changed again, to a mid-tempo song where you could still hold your dance partner if you wanted to but also move around the dance floor a little more quickly.

“So you have, señorita.”

Liz pointed out a group of students standing near the edge of the dance floor, and Kyle recognized Neil, her sociology partner, and his boyfriend standing close together but not touching, everyone clutching their fruit punch goblets while they chatted lively.

“It’s all about trust. Some people trust with their minds and their bodies right from the start. Other people need to make, and get a return on, an emotional investment before they can trust another person enough to let them in. But you can’t know that about them just from looking at—”

“—their shell.”

“Exactly.”

There was that look of pride on her face again. Kyle grinned.

_“Así que, ¿qué hemos aprendido, saltamontes?”_ [So, what have we learned, grasshopper?]

_“¿Que las apariencias engañan?”_ [That appearances can be deceiving?] Kyle answered dutifully, a shy grin still adorning his face.

Liz grinned back with a twinkle in her eye. A dangerous twinkle. 

Uh-oh. 

“Uh-huh. And what was the credo by which our favorite French Bohemians lived at the Moulin Rouge that made you cry while watching it last night no matter how much you tried to pass it off as an eyelash that got stuck in your eye?”

Kyle put on his best stubborn face and fabricated an air of innocence to proclaim, “I have no idea what you’re talking about, I’m sure. If anyone was blubbering into my shirt collar it was you, not me,” he said while trying to look righteous and indignant.

A losing prospect by the looks of things as Liz laughed her head off, holding onto Kyle so she wouldn’t tip over in her high heels. Kyle mostly preferred her in flats because he liked the way she fit under his chin.

“Ugh, straight boys. I think Michael has the right idea; maybe I should broaden my own horizons...”

~*~

They danced for a little while, chatted with friends as they twirled by, Kyle went back to get them some more Hawaiian Punch, and he was starting to feel looser and more relaxed. So, of course that's when Liz decided to dump a proverbial bucket of cold water on his head with the words, “Ok, champ, time to beg forgiveness from our third musketeer,” and with a quick kiss to his lips, she turned him around and shoved him unceremoniously towards a couple who were slow-dancing completely out of step to the music.

A couple of brunettes, one with dark spiky hair, one with... luscious curls.

Both wearing suits, foreheads touching as they swayed to and fro, arms wrapped around shoulders and hips.

“Go get ’em, tiger!”

Kyle had a feeling that’s what Liz yelled at him but he could barely even hear the music over the sound of all his blood rushing past his ears on its way to his face.

Stupid vasodilation.

He cleared his throat awkwardly, too nervous to reach out and tap either boy on the shoulder. To break the spell they seemed to be under where they were the only two people inhabiting their universe.

Binary stars in close orbit, oblivious to the gravity of the cosmos.

One of the stars looked up at the sound. Kohl-rimmed brown eyes met nervous black ones over broad shoulders. A single, highly expressive eyebrow rose in question.

Just rip the band-aid off, Valenti. 

“I’m sorry, Alex.”

The other star turned around then and the swaying came to a standstill, along with Kyle’s breathing.

It was all he could do to keep his eyes locked on Alex. He couldn’t afford to get distracted by the look on Guerin’s face. How that guy could remain so calm when Kyle had treated his boyfriend with such contempt for so long was completely beyond him.

For his part, Alex just stood there eyeing Kyle warily, probably waiting for the punch line, which burned, but was nothing less than Kyle deserved.

Lack of oxygen forced Kyle’s brain to kick his ass into gear and he sucked in a much-needed breath and carried on.

“I’m not here to beg forgiveness,” the other expressive eyebrow rose to join its compatriot and Kyle tripped over his tongue to clarify, “Uh, yeah no, what I mean is, I am, but not tonight,” he rambled on, shoving his hands uselessly into his trouser pockets. “I was a horrible human being to my own best friend for three years.” Kyle rocked back on to his heels, elbows locking, torso curling inward as the guilt and shame pulled him down, his eyes falling to the floor, unable to hold Alex’s blank stare any longer. “If it takes another three years to earn your forgiveness then that’s how long I’ll work for it, I—”

“You’re not a horrible human being, Kyle.”

Alex’s calm voice brought him up short, and he whipped his head back up to regard the couple, who still hadn’t pulled out of their embrace. Michael’s head was resting on Alex’s shoulder in the crook of his neck as he observed Kyle serenely, an almost sleepy droop to his eyelids. Their bodies had resumed swaying to a rhythm that played only for their ears.

“His father holds that dubious honor,” Guerin finally spoke up.

If Kyle hadn’t been so jittery, eyes catching on every minute movement Alex made, perhaps anticipating a punch that hadn’t come yet, he would have missed the way Alex’s right hand started caressing Guerin’s left where it lay clutching the lapel of his boyfriend’s jacket over his heart. It looked like a... soothing gesture. Actually, the more Kyle squinted at it in the dim, sparkly-disco-ball light of the dance floor, the more there seemed to be something off about his fingers, and some of the knuckles were sticking out at odd angles. Fuck, what happened there?

“Guerin, what happen—”

The swaying petered out once more. “Liz told me you tried to call me the other day,” Alex spoke as if Kyle hadn’t just opened his mouth.

Kyle dragged his eyes away from Guerin’s mangled hand with some difficulty only to be caught in the tractor beam of Alex’s intense stare and downturned eyebrows that said ‘drop it’.

“Yeah,” he cleared his throat again nervously, “about that, I just wanted to—”

“Hey, speaking of whom, I’m going to go keep that lovely lady company while you do some more groveling, Valenti,” Guerin interjected as he languidly pulled himself out of the cocoon of Alex’s embrace. Kyle couldn’t hear what he whispered into Alex’s ear of course, but he thought maybe he’d seen him mouth the words _corazón mío_ [my heart] right before Alex pulled his left hand up to his lips to ghost a kiss across the gnarly knuckles, their eyes sparkling at each other.

Or maybe that was just the lights. Or maybe Kyle was feeling a little light-headed at the moment and should be leaving these two stars alone to continue their celestial dance undisturbed by the meteoric interference of his presence. 

Kyle tried to call out to Guerin that he didn’t need to go, but the cowboy was already sidling up to Liz with a bow and a tip of his imaginary hat. Kyle’s jaw dropped open a little bit at the easy way they fell in step with the music, smiling at each other as they danced and talked.

“Wait, what?” Kyle was confused now. “Since when do they know each other so well?” A derisive snicker and reply pulled his attention back to the musician in front of him.

Kyle could have sworn he heard the tail end of Alex muttering something like, “...d’ve been a shitty boyfriend,” but that didn’t make any sense, and when he looked back into those intelligent brown eyes, the cranium in which they were encased was shaking itself slowly from side to side.

“You’re kind of a shitty boyfriend, you know that?” Alex didn’t wait for Kyle to try to get his gobsmacked lips to formulate a response before barreling onward, “Liz has two AP classes with Michael and study sessions on the regular at the Crashdown, which you would know if you ever pulled your head out of your ass long enough to notice what your own girlfriend’s schedule was.”

The calm demeanor was still in place on Alex’s face but his eyes shown brightly with repressed anger and his words were like paintballs fired at close range, each one stinging more than the previous one, some of them turning into welts on impact. He was pretty sure if he looked down he would see nothing but orange. 

He didn’t want to look. 

He also didn’t want to keep standing in the middle of the dance floor either.

He visibly swallowed down all the nervousness pooling in his mouth and pointed towards the tables spread around the gym. “Can we talk?”

Alex didn’t deign to respond and strode off through the twirling masses of their classmates instead, sprawling in a chair with his back to the music, arms draped over the backs of the foldout chairs to either side. 

‘Bring it,’ his posture boasted, eyebrows at ease but likely ready to dive at a moment’s notice back into the sea of disappointment in which Kyle suspected they’d been living for the past three years.

Right. He could do this.

He sat down in the chair next to Alex’s outstretched left arm so he wouldn’t have to shout to be heard over the music. 

“You have until the end of this song. Go.” 

“Wha— why?” Kyle spluttered, completely caught off-guard.

“Because I’m still mad at you. Music’s a-playin’,” He pulled on the silver chain that was a ubiquitous piece of his clothing ensemble to reveal an old-fashioned pocket watch and checked the time like some punkass train conductor.

It was Code:Red inside Kyle’s head: his inner self was running around like an ER doc trying to find the right thing to say but tripped over one of the darker, thornier thoughts Kyle had been ruminating over this week, so that’s what came tumbling out of his mouth, “he told me you were sick.”

Alex paused in the middle of returning the watch to his pocket. Kyle watched as his nostrils flared then relaxed, and he resettled himself a little higher in his chair, arms crossing over his chest— a subconscious self-protection maneuver at the mention of his father. 

“Did he now?” All inflection had fled from his voice.

Kyle swallowed loudly again, feeling like scum for ruining Alex’s big night, but he also couldn’t seem to stop himself now that the floodgates had been opened. He just wanted to clear the air between them, dammit! 

“Ye-yeah, remember that late-summer night right before we started freshman year? He walked in to see us watching _Buffy_ on the couch?”

Alex was frowning at him now and Kyle hoped that at least part of it was from concentration. “Your parents called you home for dinner; he gave you a ride.” Kyle could practically see the gears turning in Alex’s head as he picked up puzzle pieces he’d never considered before and watched as they were set into place just so. “You started drifting away from me after that,” he looked up into Kyle’s eyes, “at the time I attributed it to the pressures of adjusting to high school, maybe just growing apart.”

“Yeah, well, that was only part of it,” Kyle blew out a big breath of discomfort. “He knew I looked up to him, admired your older brothers. He told me that you uh, you had a ‘condition,’ and that I needed to follow your brothers’ lead so that um, your condition didn’t get worse.” 

Kyle ran a hand through his hair. “I had no idea what he was talking about, and it never even occurred to me to ask my mom about it. He was my dad’s best friend, y’know?” He let loose a sardonic chuckle. “And you know what else? When I got home, my parents had already eaten dinner because they knew I was hanging out with you.”

Alex’s eyes widened in shock.

Kyle acknowledged that reaction with a nod of his head. “Exactly. They were surprised to see me back so soon; I panicked and told them I needed to get all my books ready to go for school. Big nerd on campus, that was gonna be me, so they just smiled and went back to the show they were watching.”

“They didn’t call you home for dinner.”

Kyle shook his head.

“Fuck.”

“Mmhmm. I may have looked up to your dad as a paragon of military might but I was still afraid of him and never realized why until recently.”

Alex was staring off into the middle distance, a thunderstorm building up behind those big brown eyes.

Kyle took a deep steadying breath. “But look, Alex, that doesn't excuse my behav—” but he didn’t finish his sentence, distracted by the sudden change in his friend’s composure.

The thunderstorm rolled out again and Alex’s eyes cleared; he perked up in his seat. The other star had returned, and seconds later, big hands slowly cascaded down Alex’s chest, one crooked, one straight. It was almost as if Alex had sensed Guerin’s presence right before he stepped up behind his chair. His whole body seemed to relax into the other boy’s embrace.

The pineapple-upside-down kiss the cowboy bestowed upon the musician's lips, however, made Kyle blush from the tenderness of the gesture and he had to look away. Luckily for him, that meant looking directly into Liz’s hopeful smile from where she had just joined them at the table. Damn, Kyle hadn’t even heard her sit down. In fact, he’d completely tuned out the music while he was talking to Alex, but it came flooding back in now.

> There’s a thief on every corner of the street  
>  Trying to take from you the love that makes you sweet  
>  You gotta keep it close, you gotta keep it close, you gotta keep it close to your heart  
>  You gotta keep it close, you gotta keep it close, you gotta keep it close to your heart  
>  Or you’re gonna go [blind](https://open.spotify.com/album/73sAIYNbEqz0K2nl5371Qm)

The bass line chorus of the uptempo indie song felt like it was thumping right through Kyle’s chest as he tried to re-engage in the festive atmosphere. Liz came to his rescue with a warm hand to his cheek and a kiss that got Kyle’s heart beating a little faster. He deepened the kiss for a minute, just wanting to breathe Liz in, feeling more grounded already, but the wolf-whistles from across the table made him feel self-conscious and they broke apart.

He swung his head back towards the dance floor only to find the two stars standing up now. The curly-haired one was wrapped around the spiky-haired one from behind, their hips swaying to the same sinuous beat of music that everyone else could hear this time.

They were a little mesmerizing to behold and Kyle was grateful that Liz was holding his hand, otherwise he felt like he might drift away. But she’d always been a grounding force in his life and he thanked his lucky stars she was still there for him.

Guerin whispered something in Alex’s right ear just then which made him giggle and pull the slightly taller boy’s arms tighter around him. Kyle had missed seeing Alex so happy, and much to his pleasant surprise, the smile didn’t fade when Alex turned those bright brown eyes on him.

“We’re gonna go dance some more,” Alex looked over at Liz before continuing, “see you at the Crashdown later for blood of alien smoothies?”

Liz started to nod but then flicked her eyes over at Kyle, then back at Alex in askance.

Kyle saw Guerin squeeze Alex in silent approbation. Alex replied with the most relaxed air he'd seen surrounding him all night, “Yeah, you should bring Magoo here, too.”

Kyle’s jaw dropped. He thought he was the only one who knew his dad’s childhood nickname for him!

Alex winked at Kyle, “I hear we have a research article to debate,” and then, without further ado, he slowly spun around in Guerin’s arms and the binary stars resumed their cosmic orbit to the melodic sounds of One Republic.

"Magoo, huh?" Liz teased Kyle as she pulled him out of his seat with both hands.

"Ugh, you're never going to let me live that down, are you?" Kyle mock-groaned as he swept her into his arms and onto the dance floor.

"Nope. Besides, it's not any worse than the one my dad called me growing up," she grinned up at him.

"Which was...?"

"Iguana."

Kyle giggled like a little kid. Like he'd seen Alex do with Guer— with Michael.

_"Estoy muy orgullosa de ti,"_ [I'm very proud of you] she lauded him as she wrapped her arms around behind his neck.

Kyle smiled back at her before leaning down to thank his girlfriend with a sweet kiss. He still had a long row to hoe to make amends with Alex, but yeah, he was proud of himself, too.

> And I had the week that came from hell  
>  And yes I know that you could tell  
>  But you're like the net under the ledge  
>  When I go flying off the edge  
>  You go flying off as well  
>  And if you only die once  
>  I wanna die with
> 
> You got something I need  
>  In this world full of people, there's one killing me  
>  And if we only die once,  
>  I wanna die with you (you, you, you)
> 
> ...
> 
> And if we only live once  
>  I wanna live with you  
> 

♥ Fin


	2. Revelation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For aCinnaMeg519, who wanted to see what happens at the Crashdown after Prom :)

Kyle was pretty sure he’d just stepped into _The Twilight Zone._

Alex and Michael walked hand-in-hand into the Crashdown ahead of him and Liz and Arturo came out from the kitchen to... coo over their suits and give them hugs?

Like, seriously, what.

 _“Ay, qué guapo luce Miguelito cuando se pone elegante, ¿no te parece, mijo?”_ [Aww, look how handsome Michael is when he gets all dressed up, don’t you think, son?] Arturo winked at Alex as he stepped back from their little group hug.

Alex fucking _blushed_ and nodded shyly as he tried to pull Michael over to a booth but not before Michael preened at the praise and stole a quick kiss, which only made Alex blush more. He practically shoved Guerin into the booth as he took his seat, muttering some colorful curses, Kyle was sure.

They looked right at home there, not even opening the menus as Arturo confirmed “the usual, boys?” and returned to the kitchen at the sight of their smiling bobble-heads. 

Liz had left him just inside the door to go upstairs and change into comfortable clothes. He slowly made his way over to the couple, who had their heads bent towards each other like they were having a secret little confab, except that Michael was making Alex giggle each time he stole a kiss.

Kyle sat down opposite them, opened the menu as if he didn’t already know it like the back of his hand, and propped it up on the table so he couldn’t see them, but unfortunately that did nothing to stop the lofty sound of giggles from floating right over the top. 

Liz bounced back down the stairs in jeans and a sweatshirt and kept going until she got to the front door where she locked it and flipped the open sign to closed. A few seconds later, soft Jazz music filled the air and she came over to take her seat next to Kyle at the booth, snickering at him where he was ~~hiding behind~~ looking at the menu.

She had taken her hair down and it fell over her shoulders in beautiful broad ebony waves and Kyle just had to reach out and tuck some of it behind her ear. “Hi,” he said softly.

“Hi,” she smiled back at him, turning to kiss his palm as it slid away from her ear. 

Kyle was just about to lean in to give her a proper kiss hello when the silverware in the condiment tray jangled as someone’s knee hit the underside of the table and the sound of a throaty gasp snuck around the menu, followed by the muted thud of a hand slapping fabric and a raspy whisper, “I said _later_ , Guerin!”

Shit. 

Kyle sat up straight, folded the menu, and turned to glare across the booth at the guilty parties (who looked decidedly more debauched than guilty) before whining petulantly, “Okay, just how much did I miss while I was at football practice in the afternoons?”

Alex pulled back from his “let’s count each individual curl falling into your eyes!” up-close inventory of Guerin’s face to raise an unabashed eyebrow at him in question.

Kyle gesticulated spastically in their general direction as Arturo returned to set down four blood of alien smoothies and a basket of french fries, “What’s with all the PDA? And why does he call you Miguelito? And why are you—” Kyle’s face suddenly contorted in horror, “—dipping your fries into your milkshake?! Ugh...”

Alex just smirked as he dipped another french fry into his smoothie with deliberate slowness this time before pursing his lips to suck the fry into his mouth, licking the excess juice off of his lips with his tongue, all the while maintaining eye contact with Kyle. “It’s a smoothie, not a milkshake,” he deadpanned.

Someone let out a low groan while Alex spoke and for one horrible second Kyle was afraid it was him, some kind of involuntary reaction, but then he noticed Michael shifting in his seat awkwardly and realized the noise had come from him. Kyle recognized the universal movement of a guy trying to subtly relieve the pressure in his suddenly too-tight pants when he saw it. 

Fuck, Guerin really did have it bad.

“ _Gracias, Señor Arturo,_ ” said Michael as he reached for his smoothie in a bid to cover up the real reason he couldn’t sit still.

Everyone at the table chuckled except for Kyle, who felt like he was on the outside looking in at an inside joke. Again. But he did _not_ pout because that would be childish.

“We’ve been trying to get Mikey to just call him Arturo all year long but it’s a slow and arduous process,” Liz supplied helpfully, no doubt seeing the protruding lower lip Kyle was vainly trying to hide. “It took several months just to get him to this point.”

Mikey?

Kyle looked at Michael who just shrugged his shoulders, “It’s a respect thing,” as he plucked a fry right out of Alex’s fingers before he could do horrible things to it with frozen fruit, ice cream, and that smartass mouth of his.

Alex leveled his smokey-eyed gaze at Michael with a look that dared him: steal another fry and suffer the consequences. Michael shifted awkwardly in his seat again.

Kyle shoved the straw out of the way and took a big gulp of his smoothie to try and get the mental image of Alex seducing his boyfriend right in front of Kyle out of his head. Surely a brain-freeze would be a welcome distraction.

“ _Cómo no, Miguelito.”_ [Of course, Michael.] Arturo answered sweetly, then turned to Liz and asked, “PDA?”

“Public Display of Affection.”

Arturo mumbled it to himself as if testing out the new phrase and then picked up the tray. “Ah, ok,” and started turning to go back to the kitchen to get on with closing down.

Ok, so the brain-freeze-as-distraction ploy wasn’t working. Kyle shot out a hand to grasp the older man’s sleeve. “Wait, wait, wait. You mean, that’s it? That doesn’t bother you? What— how come— I mean, really??”

Arturo smiled at Kyle but he looked confused. “What? These two? Why should their affection bother me? They are no different than you and Liz. Some people like dogs, some like cats. What matters is that they have each other.”

Kyle’s mouth fell open but no sound came out.

Liz pulled her dad in for a one-armed hug. “ _Ay, qué lindo es usted, Papi._ [Aww, you’re so sweet, Dad.] Have you been watching [The Golden Girls](https://gra-sonas.tumblr.com/post/189348444521/impatient14-golden-girls-was-more-progressive) again?”

Arturo chuckled and nodded. “It reminds me of when I used to watch it with your mamá when you were _chiquitita, mija._ ” [very small, my daughter] “I like that Sophia. Such spirit!”

“I’d ask Blanche out if I were older,” Michael piped up. Kyle turned his incredulous stare to his right. Michael waggled his eyebrows at him, “She’s so confident and feisty.”

This night was SO not going how he thought it would. Now, don’t get him wrong, he was over the moon that Alex was willing to open up a dialogue between the two of them after so long, but this was just— it was a lot, ok?

Alex snerked around a mouthful of fries and managed to say, “You would.”

“But— but, you can’t like her!” Kyle finally found a voice. It was kind of high and screechy so it couldn’t be his, right, but whatever.

“Uhh, sure I can.”

“Why not?” Alex asked now that he’d finished chewing and swallowing his fries, eyebrows drawing together.

Kyle spluttered, one of his hands making a back-and-forth motion between the two of them, “Because you like boys! You’re dating a guy!”

The combination of Liz rubbing her hand gently up and down Kyle’s left arm and her gentle, “Oh, sweetie,” did not bode well for Kyle’s already-fraying thread of sanity.

Michael’s calm demeanor in the face of Kyle’s blustering wasn’t exactly helping matters either. “I’m bisexual, Kyle, did you not know that?”

Kyle wanted to go lie down now.

He heard Arturo trying to whisper to Alex, _“¿Qué le pasa?”_ [What’s wrong with him?] and failing, obviously.

Alex didn’t bother whispering back but said in his regular voice with a sigh, “My father sank his claws into him freshman year.” He glanced at Kyle with an inscrutable look, “Kyle’s only just recently managed to get them to retract so he’s still a little wobbly.”

“Awww, your world just got a little bit more rainbow, didn’t it?” Liz laced the fingers of their near hands together and laid her head down on his shoulder like this was some great epiphany.

Kyle wondered if he looked as shell-shocked as he felt. Judging from the soft smile Liz’s dad was now giving him, it was highly probable.

 _“Pobrecito,”_ [Poor baby] Arturo cooed. “I had wondered why you two boys stopped coming in here together,” he tapped the corner of the tray on the table once. _“Bueno pues, hay que barrer el piso. Qué disfruten.”_ [Well then, it’s time to sweep the floor. Enjoy.]

Liz immediately sprang to her feet. _“Le ayudo.”_ [I’ll help you.]

Alex and Michael both slid out of the booth on her heels, so Kyle stole a handful of fries from the basket. He was hungry, too, dammit, he didn’t see why Alex had to bogart the fries.

“You boys are the best,” Arturo looked at them so fondly, like they were the sons he never had. “I’m going to miss both of you so much when you’re gone.”

“Hey, what am I, chopped liver?” Kyle protested.

“Yes,” Liz teased him at the same time Arturo mock-retorted, “I don’t see you out here helping, _muchacho_ [young man; lit. boy]. I see you stuffing your face. Always so hungry, these football players, sheesh.” 

“Yeah yeah yeah, make fun of the football player. Hey, that’s why I go to the g—gone? Wait— what do you mean gone?”

Alex looked like he was trying to hide behind the chairs more than stack them upside down on the tables so apparently Liz took pity on him and answered Kyle’s question. Alex could get so bashful sometimes, Kyle had forgotten about that. Like he wasn’t used to anyone appreciating or even acknowledging his accomplishments, which, now that Kyle had been putting two and two together lately, made his heart ache for him just a little bit more. 

“Michael got a full ride to UNM!”

Michael, Kyle noticed, was not the least bit bashful and was currently grinning like the really smart idiot he apparently was.

Kyle was puzzled. “Okay, but what does that have to do with Alex leaving?” He looked from Michael to Alex and then back to Michael to hurriedly add, “congrats, man.”

“Thanks,” Michael smiled as he stacked another chair on top of its table.

“I’m going to UNM, too,” Alex answered quietly, looking more confident about it than he sounded. “For music.”

“Dude, no way!”

“Yes way!” Alex chuckled.

“But what about the Air Force?” Kyle’s eyes widened suddenly in concern. “What about your—”

Alex shrugged as Michael came up behind him to wrap his arms around his waist and rest his chin over his shoulder. Kyle could practically feel the supportive vibes rippling out from the epicenter of Michael’s embrace and washing over Alex, encouraging him to speak his mind.

“The Air Force can—” Alex cast a glance towards the kitchen where Arturo was puttering around then refocused on Kyle, “—stick it where the sun don’t shine. So can my dad.”

Whoa. Kyle was impressed. 

“So, tell me about this research article so I can tell you how wrong you are about whatever it is you’re thinking...”


	3. Graduation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I found great catharsis in writing this chapter.

Who knew graduating from high school would take forever?

At least, that’s what it felt like. Kyle’s watch kept insisting that it had only been a half-hour since the ceremony began and —ugh— only three minutes since the last time he’d looked down at his wrist.

Orozco had told Kyle and Núñez earlier to consider themselves lucky. He’d had to attend his older sister’s graduation from a high school in California before they moved out here and he said it had taken three _hours_ because her graduating class had 900 students! Nine hundred!! Orozco said his only saving grace had been that the ceremony had to be held outside on the school’s football field so at least the scenery was nice.

The graduating class of New Roswell High was only one hundred, for which Kyle now felt much more grateful. He couldn’t vouch for the scenery, however, seeing as how it was the middle of June in New Mexico. If they’d been outside in their black caps and gowns they would have all melted away by now. 

‘I’m melting... melting!’ Kyle chuckled to himself in a silent impression of the Wicked Witch of the West and went back to counting how many air ducts he could locate on the ceiling of the gym.

~*~

“Congratulations, babe, we are officially high school graduates!!”

“Wooohoooo!”

“Gimme some sugar!”

“We did it!!”

“Ok, too much sugar — ack — can’t breathe — put me down you big oaf!”

Kyle tended to forget that Liz was so petite because she always carried herself with such confidence and a sense of ‘grrr, I am woman, hear me roar!’ that gave her a bigger presence in his mind. He twirled her around once more before setting her back down, only to dip her backwards in a smooth transition so he could kiss her soundly on the lips.

The catcalls coming from familiar-sounding voices to their left caused them to start giggling so Kyle pulled Liz upright and turned to grin at the interlopers.

“Hey man, congrats!” 

Kyle held out his hand in reply but Guerin bypassed the handshake and went right in for a giant bear hug that squeezed all the air out of Kyle’s lungs with a surprised ‘oof!’ sound. 

“Now you know how I feel,” Liz laughed next to him where Alex was giving her a much less rib-cracking hug, “when you go overboard with the hugging.”

Guerin released him suddenly and Kyle absolutely did _not_ have to take a step or two backwards to regain his equilibrium.

Kyle pressed a couple of fingers to his ribcage, checking for damage as he glanced up at a very-amused-looking Alex. He raised an eyebrow as if to ask ‘WTF, why is your boyfriend hug-attacking me?’ but his friend just smiled. 

“You get used to it,” he shrugged, all warmth and nonchalance.

“Yeah, no, I think I’ll stick to being the one doing the squeezing, thankyouverymuch.”

That got a laugh out of everyone.

“Suit yourself,” Alex conceded easily as they traded back significant others. 

Kyle watched over Liz’s head as Guerin welcomed Alex into his arms and embraced him like he was the most precious thing in the world, bodies swaying slightly, foreheads touching, grinning at each other even though their eyes were closed. Alex looked so happy in that moment that Kyle was hard-pressed to understand how he ever could have thought that this was wro—

“Pffft, _maricones_ [fags].”

Kyle whirled around so fast that the slanderer actually skittered a step or two out of his way at the unexpected movement as he walked past them. The fulminating glare Kyle sent his way—no matter that the guy had a good four inches on him—had him backing away even further.

No. 

This was NOT gonna fly. Not today. Today was supposed to be a happy day. The first day of their lives as newly-minted adults and Kyle was going to seize every chance he could to make up for being a jerkwad to Alex for the last three years.

Starting with Wyatt Long.

~*~

Kyle jerked his head to the right and corralled Long over to another part of the gym where he hoped Alex could see (so he wouldn’t worry) but not hear them. He didn’t turn around and check to see if they’d even heard Long’s homophobic slur because he wanted to keep the image of a happy Alex fresh in his mind as long as possible. 

He also didn’t put it past Long not to try to sucker punch him when he was being extra dickish like this. Kyle had a theory about the macho bullshit he and his teammates were always pulling on each other and thought this would be a good time to test it out. Long had been back-up quarterback to Kyle all year, so there was a begrudging sense of mutual respect there (although it got a little muddied what with Long still being an asshole whereas Kyle liked to think he was currently making amends for his former douchebaggery) and Kyle wanted to know if talking to Long without anyone else around to be macho for would actually yield a more intelligent conversation. They were about to find out.

“What was that?” Kyle asked, voice civil but nothing more, hands in his pockets.

“You heard me,” Long canted his head back so he was looking down his nose at Kyle. Stupid growth spurt. Kyle used to be taller than him.

“But why the insult? They’re not bothering anyone.”

“They were botherin' me.”

Kyle rolled his eyes. “By doing what? Standing there?”

“That’s not— it’s,” Long was starting to look a little agitated, like he’d never actually been asked this question before. “It’s, it’s unnatural is what it is.”

Kyle watched as the man standing several feet away from him (and oh, wasn’t that a familiar scene, the need to keep three feet of space between himself and every other guy just so that no one could get any funny ideas) started to fidget with the strings of his bolo tie. Everyone had already ditched their caps and gowns and were _supposed_ to be enjoying the afterglow. 

“C’mon Kyle, what’s the deal, here? Why you hangin’ ‘round with that hom—”

Kyle glared him into stuttering out a different word.

“—g-guy anyhow? I thought you knew better.”

“What exactly is so unnatural about two people in love?”

Long’s face actually contorted in pain like he was the one who’d just been sucker-punched. Kyle had no fucks left to give about his pain.

“And since when do you care who I hang out with? A wise man recently asked me why I was so interested in his love life and I’m going to pass that question on to you.”

“I uh— well, uh,” came the eloquent response. 

Long reached up to scratch his head like this was a brain-buster kind of question and Kyle almost laughed. Almost but not quite. Because it wasn’t actually funny. It was sad, really. And he’d been right there in Long’s shoes only six months ago and wasn’t that a pathetic thought. He sighed heavily. 

“Let me ask you another question then. Maybe this one won’t hurt your brain so much,” Kyle didn’t bother to hide the snark. “Who told you two guys being together was wrong?”

“Ah, that’s easy. The Bible,” Long answered immediately with a smarmy smile like he’d beaten Kyle at his own game.

Kyle mentally rolled his eyes. “That’s a _what_ , Long. I’m asking _who_.”

“Oh. Uh, my dad?”

“You asking me or telling me?”

Long frowned at him and re-shuffled his feet before remembering that he was taller than Kyle and tried to lord it over him. Joke’s on him though because Kyle wasn’t afraid of him. That, and it was hard to do from so far away. The Macho Bullshit Code said that the only time it was okay to get up in another guy’s face was to threaten him right before you punched him in the eye.

He didn’t let Long latch on to that idea and continued his line of questioning. He wasn’t the Sheriff’s son for nothin’.

“Your dad ever tell you why it was wrong?”

“No. Just that it was.”

“And you didn’t argue, just accepted it as fact?”

“Well, yeah, you know what happens if you talk back to your old man, right? Hell if I was ever gonn’ give him lip after the first time I got a whippin’, no sir.”

Something in the slump of Kyle’s shoulders and the distant look in his eyes must have clued Long in to a thought because he actually stopped fidgeting for a moment. “Hey, wait. Your old man, he never took a belt nor switch to you or nothin’?”

Kyle re-focused on the other man’s face and stood a little prouder. “No, Wyatt, he didn’t. My dad loves me.”

Long’s face did something funny again at the mention of the word ‘love’. Dammit, it was like looking into a mirror from six months ago and Kyle was starting to feel a little nauseated the longer he talked to this almost, like, cloned version of himself. Why was Society so fucked up that it conditioned some men from the time they were little boys never to show any emotions or fear and that talking about feelings was something to be left for the “womenfolk” to do?

“Just, leave Alex out of it, okay?”

The fact that Alex had grown up to be the amazing person he was under the abuse and carelessness of his father would never cease to amaze Kyle. He also wasn’t sure he’d ever not feel guilty for not thinking for himself and letting someone else do the thinking for him. Because that’s what this boiled down to, wasn’t it? Wyatt Long let his dad do his thinking for him under threat of violence if he disobeyed. Kyle had let Sarge and the other guys on the football team, that masculine community of thought, do his thinking for him under threat of social ostracism. 

Alex Manes had not. He was the bravest person Kyle knew.

“Why should I?” Long was nothing if not predictable, taking one aggressive step forward. And damn if Kyle didn’t understand that stance all too well. The Macho Bullshit Code said that guys shouldn’t let other guys push them around unless there’s a good reason for it. And by good reason, that basically meant blackmailing the other guy into doing what you wanted. Kyle was really starting to think that guys were kind of stupid, himself included.

“Did you know that people think you’re dumber than a bag of rocks because of how you speak?”

That gave Wyatt pause. “What? No they don— why would they think— hey, what’s wrong with the way I talk?!”

“So you’re telling me that you’d be okay with it if someone you knew walked by when you’re just minding your own business and muttered, ‘Pffft, _idiota_ [idiot- but it’s the medical definition of a person with low intelligence; there’s a distinction in Spanish between being an idiot and being stupid where stupid is a lighter version that’s more based on behavior than someone’s mental capacity]’ as they went on with their day?”

“Of course not.”

“Why not?”

“Cuz there’s nothin' wrong with the way I speak.”

“What if someone tried to get you to take diction lessons?”

Long's eyes blew wide open and he smacked Kyle's arm with the back of his hand in retaliation. “Hey, who’ve you been talkin' to?! They’re lyin’, I tell you. I don’t need no help with… with none of that, Valenti!”

Kyle did burst out laughing this time. He couldn’t help it. Because this time it was funny.

“No, that’s not,” Kyle tried to school his face, “that’s not what I said, man. I meant lessons to make you pronounce your words differently, enunciate the letters more clearly, y’know, like Frank Sinatra.”

“Who?”

Kyle wanted to groan. He also didn’t want to be here anymore. His experiment to attempt an intelligent conversation with someone still entrenched in the ways of the Macho Bullshit Code was returning mixed though mostly depressing results. He wasn’t trying to make Wyatt Long see the error of his ways all of a sudden or anything— he’s not a miracle worker— just maybe to think for himself for once. And then he wanted to go give Alex a big bear hug and apologize some more, then take him out for a big celebration dinner at the Crashdown.

“Ugh, nevermind.”

Long got this stubborn look on his face, emphasized by the jutting out of his chin as he replied, “I can’t help the way I speak, that’s just the way I am, and I’ll fight anyone who says otherwise.”

Kyle smiled suddenly like the cat who caught the canary. He could see it in his face when Long realized a moment too late that he was the canary.

“Alex Manes can’t help liking guys, that’s just the way he is, and he’ll fight anyone who says otherwise.”

~*~

“What was _that_ all about?” Alex asked as Kyle made his way back over to his friends. He only looked curious. Thank goodness for small favors.

He didn’t stop when he approached them, however, his arms outstretched in the universal sign for ‘I need a hug’ the last couple of feet. Alex didn’t hesitate and handed the clear plastic tumbler of yet more not-so-awesome Hawaiian Punch to an amused-looking Michael as he wrapped his arms around Kyle, who just kind of deflated into his former-maybe-also-sorta-kinda-current best friend. "I'm sorry, Alex."

Kyle could feel a third hand rubbing the back of his head and knew it was Liz being her comforting, awesome self.

"Sorry for what, Kyle?"

“Don' wanna talk about it,” he mumbled into Alex’s shoulder.

“Okay then,” came the soothing response. Kyle squeezed a little tighter.

Okay, then.


	4. Celebration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had _way_ too much fun with simile and metaphor in this chapter. My homeroom teacher would be so proud.
> 
> Also, a shoutout to the wonderful YA novel [Boy Meets Boy](https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/23228.Boy_Meets_Boy?from_search=true&from_srp=true&qid=r85jE5QyS6&rank=1) by David Levithan, that I just re-read recently because I needed a bit of whimsy, and then subsequently felt inspired by one of the scenes in the book to write this chapter <3.

The Crashdown had been hopping all night. Arturo had asked for volunteers from the Roswell School of Culinary Arts to staff the restaurant on Graduation Day so that he and Rosa could be part of Liz’s big day but still feed the town’s graduates afterward. Things were winding down now as it was getting to be near closing time, laid-back mariachi music providing a relaxing musical atmosphere. Kyle’s table was full of everyone he cared for most in his life so he was one happy camper.

The cafe’s biggest and only U-shaped booth had been reserved for their party and everyone was making the most of having to squish together to all fit on the squeaky vinyl seats. 

Arturo hadn’t actually sat down yet because he kept walking around to check on how things were going for the volunteers or bring out treats for everyone, so it kind of felt like he was still working, but hey, it was his restaurant, and he had a permanent smile on his face so Kyle figured he was good. Kyle’s mom and dad sat in chairs they’d pulled up to the edge of the table. Kyle, Liz, and Rosa sat on one side of the booth while Michael’s friend Isobel and her brother Max sat next to Maria on the other side. That left Michael and Alex squashed into the curve of the booth, opposite Kyle’s parents. 

Kyle would roll his eyes but he was worried they were gonna fall out of his face from doing it so often in their direction. One of the volunteers could have run screaming out of the kitchen with their hair caught on fire and those two lovebirds wouldn’t have even noticed. They were having their own private conversation in the shadow of the larger celebratory hubbub at the booth but only half of it was being spoken with words. The other half was being spoken with hands intertwined on the table, their foreheads touching as often as not, a quiet kiss to the cheek here or there. At least they were keeping it PG (due in part to Kyle withholding their share of the fries after what happened on Prom night), sharing a milkshake instead.

He was just so proud of Alex for being the self-confident badass that he was, for being such a forgiving person when he had so many reasons not to be, and for finding someone who would do anything to make him happy. Kyle was glad no one could hear how sappy his thoughts were getting about his best friend because he just couldn’t help himself. Well, almost no one. Maria kept slipping him sly glances from across the booth like she was hip to his mental jive, which had always given him the heebie-jeebies when she pulled out her Jedi mind tricks like that. 

He stuck his tongue out at her to show her he didn’t care tonight. She laughed and went back to talking to Liz and Kyle’s parents. Kyle smiled and went back to chatting with Rosa, Max, and Isobel.

So, when Alex pulled out his phone around five minutes before closing to look at what was presumably an incoming text message when he hadn’t touched it for the last several hours because he’d been off in la-la land with Michael, Kyle took notice. 

The look that stole across Alex’s face made Kyle’s stomach drop. It was a look he had hoped he wouldn’t have to see much of anymore. A subtle but impenetrable wall of defense that shuttered his emotions and left only a cool exterior. A poker face.

No one else at the table had noticed anything was amiss. Except for Michael, of course. He had the most expressive eyes Kyle had ever seen, second only to Alex’s big brown puppy dog eyes, and currently they were gazing intently into Alex’s. Kyle wouldn’t be surprised if they were having some sort of telepathic conversation right now.

Alex reached up with the hand that wasn’t currently entwined with Michael’s on the table and cupped his cheek for a moment before giving him a tender but short kiss on the lips. Michael touched their foreheads together, and Kyle got the distinct impression they were girding their loins for some kind of trouble that had stemmed from that ominous text message. 

The bell above the Crashdown’s front door chimed a few seconds later and in walked Trouble with a capital M.

Kyle hated it when he was right about this stuff.

~*~

The atmosphere inside the restaurant suddenly took on the trappings of an old Spaghetti Western in Kyle’s mind: twangy theme music ambling past the darkened windows of the shops across from the Crashdown, hot desert wind blowing tumbleweeds down the street; saloon doors creaking open as the big bad US Marshal sidled through, ragged brim of his cowboy hat canted low over one eye as he searched for his youngest colt in the dim, smoky room.

The house band hushed upon his entrance, all conversations following suit like they were heeding the warning call from crows of an incoming vulture. The only sound left was the _KA-THUNK_ , _KA-THUNK_ , _KA-THUNK_ of the marshal’s spurs as they spun and clinked at the back of his boots against the timberline floor.

His roving eye located the colt, who had grown into a bucking bronco in his absence, at the back of the parlor. He walked slowly but deliberately over to the table where everyone could see a slightly crumpled piece of paper sticking out either side of the fist his right hand was making.

“Sheriff,” came the gruff voice in a barely recognizable tone of respect.

Sheriff Valenti did not rise from his seat but merely acknowledged the man with a civil, “Manes.”

Kyle was just as frozen as everyone else at the table but on the inside he was smirking because he knew what a dig that was. The military had no jurisdiction inside Roswell town limits so Sarge was just a regular citizen in the eyes of the law. His dad, however, was the Sheriff so it behooved Sarge to use his title when addressing him whereas his dad was under no obligation to reciprocate that professional courtesy. 

There was an uneasy look on Sarge’s face, not that this was new. He seemed to have two moods: uneasy and mad. So maybe it was a good thing that he was currently exhibiting the former?

He cleared his throat to speak, and Kyle amended his mental assessment. He looked... nervous. How odd. Kyle wasn’t surprised to see him back in town, Alex had told him his six-month tour had ended the week of their graduation, but he was surprised to see him here. Kyle wasn’t sure if Sarge was even aware that his youngest son had graduated from high school today. He sure as hell hadn’t been at the ceremony earlier, but Flint had come over to give his brother a hug so at least one of the Manes men cared.

“There’s something I need to uh talk to you about, son,” he addressed Alex directly, completely ignoring everyone else at the table, but Kyle knew he was taking stock of who was there. 

“Oh, good,” Alex nodded his head towards the paper, “you saw my acceptance letter, isn’t that cool? Just got it in the mail today,” he replied in that practiced false cheer Kyle knew he reserved for his father. He hadn’t bothered doing that with Kyle, choosing instead to mostly ignore him, which in hindsight Kyle very much appreciated because this was way worse, so… contrived.

“Let’s… discuss this at home, c’mon, let’s go,” Sarge frowned, his voice clipped.

“No can do, Pops,” Alex replied with what sounded like a relaxed tone to anyone who wasn’t familiar with the Manes family dynamic. “I’m in the middle of celebrating our graduation with my friends and their families, but if you have any questions, you can always,” he rotated his phone around his palm in a trick maneuver, similar to the way Kyle was always watching him flick pencils around his wrist without dropping them, in lieu of finishing his sentence.

“I am not going to call my own child on the telephone when I can talk to him about private family matters in my own home. While you’re living under my roof you will obey me. Get your things. Now. I won’t ask you again.” He addressed him as if he really were a soldier under his command, then turned on his heel and headed for the front door, imposing his will. Conversation over.

Liz, Rosa, and Maria had all picked up on the tension slowly filling up the room like sand in an hourglass; Max and Isobel were trying to subtly lean away from Alex’s dad and Kyle could relate. His dad was watching Sarge with care and his mom was keeping her eyes on Alex, offering him her support. Arturo had come back into the dining area at the sound of the door chime and now stood silently behind the chair where Kyle’s mom was seated, eyebrows drawn together in worry, eyes flickering back and forth between his favorite boys. Kyle was amazed that Michael had stayed quiet this long, although he could see the white-knuckled grip he had on Alex’s hand still resting on top of the table, so maybe that’s where he was focusing all of his attention, like a wizard concentrating on a magic spell, pouring his powers into lending Alex his strength. 

“Hmmm… yeah, that’s the thing though. I’m not a child anymore,” Alex called out, clearly making no move to ask the others to let him out of the booth. He waited a beat, probably to make sure he had Sarge’s full attention and judging from the way he stopped halfway to the door, he did. “Nor do I still live under your roof.”

“What?” The military man whirled around. “You can’t just move out, you’re still a minor.” His voice was getting lower, never a good sign. 

Alex shook his head ruefully, “It’s okay, Dad, I know it’s tough keeping track of all the birthdays when you have four kids but I turned 18 three days ago.”

Sarge’s eyes narrowed as he slowly made his way back to the booth. Kyle was starting to get the almost giddy feeling that Alex was the one in control here. 

“And I moved out of the house two days ago. Don’t worry, I’m sure you would have noticed if you were home more but I know how important your job is to you and all that… jazz.”

“Where have you been staying then?”

“With Liz.”

Sarge immediately slid his serpentine eyes over to Isobel, who recoiled into Max’s side. Kyle wanted to scream. What a racist douchebag!

With a tired sigh, Alex raised the hand clinging to Michael’s to point at Liz sitting on the other side of the table who was outright glaring at Sarge, “You remember Liz, don’t you, Dad? The one I’ve been best friends with since second grade?”

It looked like it actually pained Sarge to make eye contact with Liz, his face contorted in a disdainful grimace. She just held his gaze confidently like the badass she was. Kyle wanted to kiss her for it.

“I’ll be in town a few more days before we head out to Albuquerque.”

“We?” That pronoun dragged Sarge’s attention back to Alex and that was the moment in which Kyle could tell that he had finally noticed who had pride of place at Alex’s side. He followed his line of sight and found it was locked on their joined hands.

“Mmhmm, Michael and I got a place together on campus, he got a full ride to UNM, isn’t that amazing?” Alex smiled but maintained eye contact with his dad. Anyone else would have looked over at their significant other with hearts in their eyes, but you don’t look away from the snake that’s staring you down even if there is a table full of people between the two of you. Kyle could practically hear the sibilant sound of Sarge’s rattle coming to life as he took in what he no doubt considered his youngest son’s willful insubordination.

Kyle smirked internally. Sweet rebellion was more like it. Long overdue. He saw Maria smirking out of the corner of his eye a moment later since she seemed to be attuned to him tonight. They winked at each other.

“I thought you were going to enlist, like your brothers before you,” Sarge ground out, eyes hard, cheeks turning a mottled red color from the effort he was obviously making to keep his anger in check.

“Oh, you know, once a black sheep always a black sheep, Dad,” Alex shrugged. His best friend actually fucking shrugged at his father. Oh, the adrenaline must be singing in his veins right now cuz wow. Kyle made a mental note to keep an eye on him because once Sarge left it was only a matter of time before Alex came crashing down from this high of finally telling his dad off. “Gotta follow my heart if I’m gonna be a real Manes man, right? So I’m following him to UNM and we’re going to make beautiful music together.”

Kyle almost hurt himself holding the snicker inside but he somehow managed it, and looked over in time to see Alex’s dad sneer at the two of them. There was that rattle sound again. Everyone thinks that a rattlesnake shakes its tail when it’s coiling up to strike — and it is — but what it’s really doing is trying to make itself look dangerous because it’s scared. The _snake_ is the one who feels threatened, and if you stand your ground and stare it down, it will likely slither away to find some smaller, weaker prey somewhere else.

No one at the table was moving more than their heads to follow the tennis match between the two Manes men. If it weren’t for the soft mariachi music and the volunteers working in the background, Kyle would bet that you actually could hear a pin drop. 

“Uh-huh,” Sarge muttered dubiously. He looked like he had a few choice words about what being a ‘real’ Manes man meant to him but he was also up against an unknown enemy here and Kyle knew he didn’t like feeling out of his element; he was slowly backing away, his eyes drifting down to where Michael and Alex’s hands were clasped together, the look in his eyes cold, barren.

Except that, wait — 

Kyle would have missed it, it was too oblique an angle for him to pinpoint from his seat where exactly Sarge was looking, if Michael hadn’t twitched in his peripheral vision. Kyle drew his eyes away from Sarge’s sharp gaze to catch Michael slipping his left hand out of sight under the table from where it had been holding the half-empty milkshake tumbler, eyes defiant nevertheless. Huh, that was an odd cause and effect, cuz that was the hand that was all messed up, the one that looked like someone had — 

Oh shit.

Oh, _shit._

“Whatever,” Sarge replied in a wooden voice, his face all twisted up like he was trying to get the taste of sawdust out of his mouth while trying to be surreptitious about it and totally failing. He took one last at the others assembled all around Alex. Kyle could tell that he’d only just realized how out-numbered he really was. “I have to… go.” He unclenched his right hand and let the crumpled acceptance letter drop to the floor. Like he was dropping Alex from his notice. And walked away.

Hell, good riddance, because there was still the matter of WHAT THE FUCK was going on with Michael’s hand?!? Did Sarge have something to do with it? Kyle’s eyes were ready to bug out of his head. He felt Maria’s intelligent gaze boring into the side of his head, apparently picking up on his mental distress. He flicked a glance at her then down to where Michael’s hand lay hidden in his lap then canted his head towards the front door, hoping she had followed the trail his eyes made. Seeing her eyes widen in surprise a moment later and her mouth part in a silent gasp told him she had. Ok, good, at least he wasn’t going crazy here. But damn. How could Michael be so calm in the face of someone who had done such a thing if-if that’s really what happened? Respect.

“Okay, bye, Dad! See ya,” Alex called out like they hadn’t just gone five rounds in the ring as the big bad US Marshal slunk back out of the saloon, his spurs hissing and spitting in defeat, “wouldn’t wanna be ya,” Alex added under his breath for the sake of tradition as fresh air from outside came rushing in and reanimated everyone all at once. 

While all of his friends starting talking over each other and Kyle’s parents exchanged worried glances with Arturo and struck up a quiet conversation of their own, as predicted, Kyle watched the way that Alex, a nebulous smile on his face, seemed to deflate and sag into the arms of his boyfriend who, Kyle was more heartened than ever to see, looked more than strong enough to hold him up, in all senses of the word.


End file.
